Silence
by Revengent
Summary: Silence is now House's new companion.
1. Chapter 1

**-rubs hands together- Okay, new story, and thanks for everyone that read my last story, _Revenge in the Clinc_. I have been wanting to do this one for a long time, and I have done a lot of research for it, so I'm happy with it. It will be multi-chaptered, and no real romantic shippings will be explored, just friendships. And Chase and Cam will be in it so, yay. The part that needed a lot of research isn't in this chapter, but it's brought up. So if you want to know what happens, keep reading :)**

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own House. David Shore, NBC, and Fox does. If I did, you would know because I would be bragging about it :)**

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**Silence**

**by: Revengent**

Lisa Cuddy was angry.

House watched through the glass walls of his office as Cuddy pounded her black high heel shoes into the tile, making _click-clack_ sounds echo through the hall at a determined, brisk pace that was in time with her arms swinging at her side. House had no doubt that he was the causation of her wrath, but he had no idea what it was that he had done to make the hospital administrator look like she could melt diamonds with a single glance of her eyes.

House sighed and sat upright in his chair as Cuddy flung open his office door and stood in the doorway glaring at House as the door slowly shut behind her. Cuddy was breathing deeply, her chest rising and falling with every inhale and exhale and her face was contorted in rage with her eyes narrowed as she started down House. She was also trembling, which House noticed by the shaking papers she held in her hand.

House thought before he spoke, not wanting to prod to Cuddy and make her apparent attitude worse.

"Yes?" asked House, trying to seem oblivious to her obvious wrath.

Cuddy slowly sauntered towards House and stopped in front of his desk. She held up the papers that she was holding in her hand and shook them in the air in front of House.

"What are these?" Cuddy spat.

House shrugged. "I don't know. I can't tell when you shake them around like that."

"What. Are. These?" Cuddy looked down at House as he put his elbows on his desk as he leaned forward to examine the papers in question, this time Cuddy keeping them still.

"They look like prescriptions," House said as he leaned back in his chair. "You needed the big, bad diagnostician to help you figure that out?"

Cuddy smiled. House was reminded of an animal that would act sweet to lure you in for a kill, and House knew that Cuddy was trying to do the same. For what, he still did not know.

"Who do they belong to?" Cuddy asked.

House felt his heart skip a beat when he read the name on the top prescription. "Mine…"

"Yes!"

Cuddy hastily threw the prescriptions at House, some landing on his desk, some in his lap, but most fluttered to the floor. House blankly stared at Cuddy while she stood fuming in front of him.

"That's thirty-seven prescriptions, all made out to you," Cuddy thundered.

"I had a cough."

"They are all Vicodin prescriptions. And that is just the prescriptions from the past two months. Who knows how many you had the month before."

"You were monitoring by usage then," House pointed out. "You give me my drugs now, remember?"

"Apparently I'm not the only one." She reached forward to House's desk and grabbed a prescription and read it. "This one is from Dr. Taub."

"I was in pain. You weren't giving me enough. But then again, you never give me enough of anything," House said nodding towards Cuddy's chest.

Cuddy threw the prescription she was holding back on House's desk and placed her hands on her hips. "I uped your dosage in the beginning when you told me you needed more. Six pills a day is more than a recommended dosage, but still, I gave you more. After that you were taking how many a day? Ten?"

"Sounds about right." House shrugged. "I never was good at math."

"So you went behind my back and went to your fellows and asked them for a hand out. Did you bribe them? Threaten them?" Cuddy asked.

"No, I just asked. Kutner was more than eager to help me, and after I put Thirteen on a guilt trip she caved. Taub stood his ground at first, but after he saw me in pain he pulled out his pad and pen," House explained.

"Yeah, and they gave you multiple prescriptions. You kept going back," Cuddy said as a statement, not a question.

"Well _yeah._ Chronic pain doesn't go away."

"There are also a few prescriptions from Cameron in there and there's also one from Chase. Did you tell them that I mistreating you too?"

"They know how big of a meanie you can be to me." House flinched back, as if Cuddy as yelled at him.

"You have been taking more pills than you ever have."

"Maybe. Again, I have never been good at math."

Cuddy sighed. "I trusted you House. Haven't you learned anything? How about before, with the investigation with Tritter?"

House let his hand drop into his lap and returned his face to normal. "Is it such a surprise that I let you down?"

Cuddy looked down at the ground. "No, but I thought that you would try," she whispered.

After a few seconds Cuddy looked back up because House had not said anything.

"Well, is it?" he asked.

"I said no."

"Oh."

House brushed the prescriptions off of his lap onto the floor. Cuddy fidgeted.

"It's because of him, isn't?"

Cuddy met House's eyes. She didn't need to say who _him_ was; it was unspoken between the two of them.

"Oh yes, I'm wallowing in misery," House retorted.

"Knocking back narcotics all day is a good indication that you are." Cuddy walked around House's desk and stood next to his chair and placed a caring hand on his shoulder, her demeanor changing from raging and demanding to soft and sympathetic. House sighed, knowing what was coming. "House, I'm sorry Wilson isn't around anymore, but you have to-,"

House swatted Cuddy's hand away. "I'm fine. I know that you haven't been a real doctor for years, but I think you do know that people can build up a resistance to drugs. Meaning I need more." House picked up his cane and stood up unsteadily.

"Not this much," Cuddy replied, and then paused while she watched House stand. "It's because of Wilson."

"Don't meddle in something you don't understand," House said, towering down at Cuddy.

Cuddy stared with her mouth slightly open as House pushed her aside and began to walk away.

"House, you better be glad that I'm not reporting you…look at me," Cuddy said.

House continued walking.

"House!" Cuddy yelled.

House turned around. "What?"

"I said…" Cuddy's attention was drawn to the other room where Kutner, Taub, Foreman and Thirteen had just walked into the conference room. "Never mind," she muttered as she pushed past House and into the room with the other doctors.

"I know," Cuddy said with her professional command, demanding attention from everyone in the room. House stood next to Cuddy, looking at the fellows who were staring blankly at her.

"You know…what?" Kutner asked. He looked to his side at Foreman, who looked as confused as he did.

Cuddy sighed. "I know that House can annoy you sometimes and forces you to do things that you don't want to do. But I'm asking, no _telling_, you to not prescribe him any more drugs."

"But-," Taub began.

"Don't be worried about his well being. I give House his medicine and he will have to live on that dosage," Cuddy said with a biting tone, looking over her shoulder at House as she said it. She turned back to the others that were staring agape at her. "Understand?"

"Yes Dr. Cuddy," Thirteen whispered.

"Good. We don't need anyone enabling him." She gave House's team one final smile and then turned to face House. He mocked her grin and did a curtsey, putting his weight on his cane as he put his left leg behind him. Cuddy rolled her eyes and left the room without saying anything else.

"God, I thought she'd never leave." House pointed to his office where paper littered the floor. "Thirteen, go in there and pick up all that paper off the floor."

Thirteen muttered something inaudible to House as she walked past him, however Taub and Kutner laughed at what she had said. Deciding to ignore a possible snide remark from Thirteen, House limped over to the white board and erased what was written on it which included a game of hangman and a rather intricate drawing of Yoda (by Kutner of course).

What did Cuddy know? Assuming he was taking more pills because he missed Wilson, that was the dumbest thing House had ever heard. Well, maybe not the dumbest, but it ranked pretty high on the scale. But…honestly…House was actually still a little bitter that Wilson had treated him in the way he did. How can Wilson say that they were never friends, after all that they had been through together? And Wilson had never thanked House for _risking his life_ to save his stupid girlfriend. Ungrateful son of a bitch.

House slammed the eraser on the edge of the board. He didn't admit it aloud, but the Wilson situation did bother him, but there was nothing House could do to fix it, and knowing that made it even worse.

Somebody grabbed House's shoulder causing him to flinch which hurt his leg. Sighing, House turned around to be face to face with Kutner and Taub.

"Are you ignoring us on purpose?" Taub asked.

"No. That doesn't sound like me at all," House said. Kutner crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"What did she mean _all of us_? I thought I was the only one that gave you Vicodin," Kutner said.

"I did too," Taub said, staring at Kutner. Foreman snorted, still not having anything to say in the matter. "House?"

"What? Are you upset that you're not my only secret dealer?" House snapped.

Thirteen came back into the room with the paper gathered in her hands. "These are prescriptions. There's over thirty-," she began but House cut her off.

"Thirty-seven to be exact. Cuddy counted them for me. She also slapped me on the wrist. I asked for her to slap me somewhere else but she was shy."

"There are ones from all of us," Thirteen continued, flipping through the small pieces of paper. "…Except Foreman. There are also ones from Chase, Cameron and Cuddy too…" She let her voice trail off and looked up at House with a mixture of hurt and anger. "You've been using us."

"Surprise," said Foreman. Taub looked back at Foreman, but Kutner took a step closer to House, pinning him against the white board.

"That's not right," Kutner said. "You took advantage of our sympathy."

House looked down at the younger doctor who was staring at him with a bewildered gaze. "I never asked for your sympathy. I just wanted some drugs." House brought up his cane and pushed it against Kutner's chest. Kutner complied and stepped back and let House limp past him. "And stop acting like I betrayed you."

Thirteen grabbed House's arm as he limped past her. "Kutner has a right to feel that way. Stop taking out your problems on us, because I don't want to take the fall for your actions."

"Oh my God. Stop making this bigger than it is." House yanked his arm free from Thirteen's grasp and looked over at Foreman who was sitting down at the table observing the argument between House and his subordinates. "Foreman doesn't bother me about it. Learn from him."

"I just know that you won't change. You say it all the time: People don't change. Drug addicts will still be drug addicts," Foreman said in a blasé tone.

Taub rang his hands together as if he was contemplating what to say. "Chase told me what happened before we were hired," Taub said.

House looked to his side at Taub. "Stop mumbling. I can't hear you."

"I didn't mumble," Taub said curiously. Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, staring at House. Taub cleared his throat and spoke again. "I found out from Chase what happened a couple years ago."

"What? Did he tell you I harassed him? Because he so asked for it."

"Chase told me about that detective you pissed off and how he uncovered your addiction and arrested you-,"

"Yeah, that's Chase's fantasy. Him visiting me in a jail cell for late night roll in the sack," House quipped.

"Chase also told me that you tried to detox but you didn't go through with it."

"Chase is such a tattle-tale."

"You have a problem House. You need to fix it because it's only getting worse." Taub bit his lip, afraid of how House would react to his words. So far, House had kept his rough exterior that is laced with sarcasm, but Taub could see that House's mind was reeling behind those blue eyes. Daring to take the conversation further, Taub continued, "You almost lost your license, and you almost caused Wilson to lose his too because you were too stubborn to-"

Taub was silenced by a blow to his face by House's open palm. Taub brought his own hand to his face staring in House in shock. House was seething as he glared at Taub with an icy gaze and gripped his cane tightly, his other hand still in the air next to Taub's face.

Kutner and Thirteen went to either of Taub's sides while Foreman had jumped up and stood next to House in case House decided to physically assault his employee again. The five stood in silence with all of their attention focused on House.

"House," Foreman said.

Taub dropped his hand to his side and his surprised expression morphed into one of bitter understanding. "No wonder Wilson hates you."

House lunged towards Taub, but Foreman held House back by his arms. Taub took a hesitant step back, intimidated by House. Despite his best struggles, House could not free himself from Foreman with his arms restrained and a useless leg, so House stopped struggling. House shrugged out of Foreman's grip and straightened his jacket glaring at his fellows who all had looks of amazement.

"Here," Foreman said, offering House his cane which fallen to the ground forgotten when House had tried to attack Taub. House continued to stare at the others.

Foreman nudged House with his cane. "House."

Not moving his glare from Taub, House snatched his cane from Foreman's hand.

"You are an idiot," House said speaking to Taub. Taub tried to speak but stuttered instead.

"Stay out of other people's business." House took his bottle of Vicodin out of his pocket and poured some in his palm, and swallowed them. House read the label on the bottle, seeing who had prescribed him that particular bottle. "Thank you…Dr. Kutner."

Kutner didn't know how to react, so he just nodded. Thirteen however became agitated.

"How many did you just take?" Thirteen asked, shoving her hands into her coat.

"Two."

Foreman scoffed. "Yeah, right. More like eight."

"Does it matter?" House put his pills back in his pocket and leaned heavily on his cane.

"Yeah, kinda," Kutner said quietly.

"Listen; there are some rules when you work for me. Rule number one is that you will do what I say. Rule number two is you that you will stay out of my business. Did you hear that Taub?"

Taub nodded his head.

"Rule number three," House continued, "is that you will not question my actions. Rule number four states that on every second Monday of every month you-,"

"House."

"…Fill in for clinic duty. Five says-,"

"House!"

House looked up to see the others looked oddly at him. "What?" he asked.

"You pager. It's going off," Kutner said.

House took his pager off his belt and read who the message was from. Cuddy.

"You didn't hear that?" Foreman asked incredulously.

House hooked his pager back. "Maybe. Or possibly I was ignoring it." House limped past the other doctors. He stopped at the door and looked back at them and said, "You can talk about me when I leave." With one last glare at Taub, House pushed open the door and walked rather fast down the hall.

When House was out of sight, Taub sighed.

"Are you okay?" Foreman asked.

"Yeah." Taub touched his still-red cheek and winced when he touched it. "It's not bad. I'm just more surprised that he actually hit me."

"Get used to it. You have to be careful what you say to House sometimes. The drug thing is a touchy subject with him. And you know that he hasn't been himself lately," Foreman pointed out.

"And he does miss Wilson, even if he is in denial," Kutner muttered.

Foreman nodded. He then tilted his head to the side. "Did you think it was weird that he didn't hear his pager?"

"I think he was ignoring it," Thirteen commented, waving her hand in the air. "He even said so himself."

"I don't think so. Come to think of it, I think he didn't hear some other things we said. Like when he told you to stop mumbling," Foreman said, motioning towards Taub. "And he didn't hear us when he had his back turned towards us when he was at the white board."

"Yeah, and I don't think he heard you, Hadley, when you said that one thing when he told you to go pick up the paper off the ground," Kutner remarked.

The four doctors looked at each other.

"Do you think there's anything to it?" Taub asked.

"All of those times, he could have been ignoring us," Thirteen replied.

"But he may not have been," Kutner said.

"He understood us all the other times."

"He could have been reading our lips," Kutner pointed out. He turned to Foreman for support. "You've known him longer than us. What do you think?"

Foreman sighed. "I honestly don't know. Hearing loss could be a neurological symptom-,"

"Or an ear infection," Thirteen said.

"Or trauma," Taub muttered.

"Where would House have gotten trauma that damaged his hearing?" Thirteen retorted.

"Uh, he was in a bus that crashed and flipped over a few times."

"Three months ago!"

"Shouldn't we just ask him?" Kutner asked, offering the most logical solution. However, Foreman shook his head in disagreement.

"No way, not after what just happened," Foreman said, looking at Taub. "Besides, he won't admit he's sick anyway."

"Then we have to test him without him knowing," Kutner said.

"And…how do we do that?" Thirteen asked.

Kutner shrugged. "I dunno. Something."

Foreman sighed and ran his hand over his head. "Fine, we'll try to think of something. But I don't know…" Foreman let his voice trail off, and the others did encourage him to continue. Probably because they were as confused and clueless as he was.

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**So, review please? It makes a writer happy :) Thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's chapter two. Sorry it took so long. As always, read and review :D And if you feel bored, you can always go check out the other fic I recently wrote "Ode to Wilson." I promise you will laugh.**

**Oh and on my profile page I have a poll up on the ships of House. Go vote for your favorite!**

**Dislaimer: I still don't own House.**

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Foreman, Kutner, Taub and Thirteen sat around the glass table that was cluttered with paper in the conference room discussing what could be wrong with House. So far they have not been able to deduce any problem that could cause House to lose his hearing but they had many theories. However, none of the probabilities could be explored because they had not seen House since the incident this morning nor have any conclusive tests to prove their theories. Since then, the four had been working furiously to uncover this mystery.

Kutner held up a result from a MRI to the light and squinted. When Taub saw this, he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Is that House's MRI from after the crash?" Taub asked.

"Yeah," Kutner said without looking away from the film.

"What, you think that a test from three months ago is going to help us now?" Thirteen asked.

"Not if you think you can get House into a MRI, but otherwise yes." Kutner scowled and leaned across the table putting the film in the middle of the table. "He cracked his skull open and then the crack was widened after the deep brain stimulation. The crack went all the way down to his ear canal," Kutner said, tracing the white mark that ran through the picture of House's skull and then looked up at the others. "That could possibly cause hearing loss."

Foreman shook his head. "The ossicles would have had to be broken. And from this, it doesn't look like it-,"

"But we don't really have a clear view of it," Taub pointed out. "It could have been damaged and we just didn't look for it three months ago because we were more worried about his brain bleeding."

"He would have other symptoms like dizziness-," Thirteen began but Kutner cut her off.

"House is coming," he said, gathering House's medical files into a pile. Just as House pushed open the door, Thirteen had placed a plain manila folder on top, hiding any evidence that they were secretly diagnosing him.

House stopped mid-limp, staring at his fellows that sat at the table, who were looking back at him with suspicious, fixed gazes, making it feel like they were watching every move he made.

"What?" House spat.

Thirteen shrugged and shook her head, while Kutner blurted out, "We didn't do anything."

"Saying you didn't do anything is always an indication that you did do something," House explained. "So what was it? Did you catch Cuddy in a compromising situation?"

"No. There's nothing. Really," Kutner said, trying to seem as innocent as possible.

"Deny, deny, deny." House shook his cane at Kutner's direction with emphasis on every word. "Denial won't get you anywhere."

"Yeah, you should know," Foreman muttered under his breath, testing to see if House could hear his soft-spoken comment.

House, who had not been looking at Foreman, did not react to Foreman's remark. The other fellows quickly glanced to Foreman before looking back at House.

"Taub!" House yelled.

Taub jumped slightly in his seat. "Yes?"

"Don't be afraid. I'm not going to bitch slap you again."

Taub nodded, knowing this was as close to "I'm sorry," it got for House.

Skimming over the personal matters, House threw patient files on to the table. "Our new patient." He limped over to the white board and hung his cane on the top.

Each of the fellows took a file and opened them and pretended to read them, but they were really waiting to but their plan into action. House finally turned his back to them and began to loudly ramble about symptoms and scribbling them onto the board.

"He's talking louder than normal. That's a classic sign that someone is losing their hearing," Kutner whispered.

"You don't have to whisper," Taub stated in a normal voice. "We're seeing if he can hear sounds that are on a normal level."

The four fell silent and looked over at House, who was still talking about their current patient; the one that wasn't their boss.

"…Blood pressure falling at a steady declining rate. Last year she was admitted to-,"

Apparently House had not heard them talking behind his back.

"He could be ignoring us," Thirteen suggested.

"I don't think so," Foreman said.

"Me neither," Kutner agreed. He then took a deep breath and said, "House sucks."

They held their breath waiting for House to turn around and reprimand Kutner, but he continued scribbling notes onto the board.

"Really? Is that the best you could come up with?" Taub asked Kutner. Taub turned to House's direction and clearly said, "House fights like a girl."

"House smells like a girl."

Thirteen, Foreman and Taub looked at Kutner with odd expressions.

"I bet you were never that good at come backs on the playground," Taub said.

"No, not really," Kutner admitted.

"House wears tighty-whities."

Now it was Taub's turn to have his co-workers stare at him. Taub shrugged, and Thirteen sighed with frustration.

"Spouting insults trying to make him react isn't working," she said. Indeed, House still was facing the white board, which now had many different symptoms written on it with ideas that he had deemed as incorrect crossed out with a blue marker. House had no idea that his employees were mocking him behind his back.

"But it is fun," Kutner said with a huge grin, however it faded after a displeasing glare from Thirteen. Suddenly, his face lit up like it did when he had one of his creative, ingenious solutions to a problem. "I have an idea."

Kutner pulled out his cell phone and began pressing buttons as the others looked on with curiosity.

"What are you doing?" Taub asked.

"Have you ever heard of those mosquito ring tones?" Kutner asked. "The ones that are high frequencies-,"

"And are screechy and annoying? Yeah," Foreman said.

"Well, we can use it as a hearing test. If we can hear it and House can't...,"

"We would know that he has hearing loss," Taub said, finishing Kutner's idea.

Kutner nodded and began to say something else, but was cut off by House.

"And?" asked House, who was now facing the occupants of the table. Not sure what House was referring to, Foreman gave an ambiguous answer.

"You…want our opinion?"

"Well, that is what you're here for. Medical stuff. Diagnosing the ill," House quipped.

Kutner looked uneasily across the table at Foreman. Ironically, House's remark could refer to their ploy of diagnosing himself. However, Kutner believed that House was still clueless (a rare occurrence) to their scheme.

"Come on, I don't have all day. She could _die_," House mockingly urged, motioning with his hand for them to speed up their thinking process.

Taub stole a quick glance at the symptom-covered board, reading as much as he could, trying to compensate for not listening to House when he had been explaining the case.

"Amyloidosis seems likely," Taub blurted, not totally confident with his diagnosis.

"Sarcoidosis? Are you stupid?" House looked back at the board. "There's nothing that would suggest that-,"

"Taub said amyloidosis, not sarcoidosis," Foreman said. At first, House made no indication of hearing him, so Foreman shouted it louder this time.

House looked over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"Amyloidosis is what I said. Not sarcoidosis," Taub said.

House looked mildly confused for a second, but then nodded. "Oh. That makes more sense." Trying to draw attention away from what had just happened, House looked to Kutner, who still had his cell phone open in his hand. "What are you doing?"

"Oh!" Kutner had forgotten about the idea that he had had. He pressed a button on his phone, letting a shrill sound fill the room. Taub, Thirteen and Foreman tried to not make any recognition of the sound so they would not let clue House into faking that he heard it too, but they could not help but react at the annoying sound coming from Kutner's phone.

"Why is your face contorted into that awful frown Foreman?" House asked.

Foreman stole a quick glance to his colleagues before looking back to House with a concerned gaze. "You can't hear that?" Foreman asked, nodding towards Kutner's phone.

"Maybe." House's eyes shifted to Foreman, to Kutner who was resting his elbow on the table and holding his phone in the air, and back to Foreman. "What should I be hearing? The sound of your annoying voice?"

"More like the sound of cats being killed," Taub said.

"Oh. Yeah, there it is." House acted as thought he understood what they were talking about and tried to change the subject. "But, how about this case? It sounds deadly with-,"

"You can't hear it," Thirteen said bluntly.

"Of course I can," House retorted.

"You don't even know what we're talking about." Kutner shut his phone, ceasing the screeching sound it was emitting, and then shoved it into his lab coat pocket.

"Yes I do. It was your phone."

"Obviously, by the fact that I motioned to it earlier." Foreman tilted his head to the side and examined House's expression. It was a mixture of confusion and frustration and a slight blush was spreading across his face. Foreman guessed that they were on the right track. "You know you can't hear," Foreman declared, and his assertion was proven correct when House's had a look of recognition in his crystal blue eyes, which was closely followed by House tearing his gaze away from Foreman.

"It's nothing," House admitted.

"Nothing? You can't hear us when your back is to us…like now," Taub said, his voice falling on the second half of his sentence when he realized that House was facing away from him.

Foreman stood up and walked the distance between himself and House and placed a hand on House's shoulder. "House," Foreman said, a little louder than usual, "I know it's scary but-,"

"I'm not afraid." House shrugged Foreman's hand off of his shoulder. "And you don't have to yell, I'm right here."

"But you can't-,"

"So?" House turned around to see Taub, Kutner and Thirteen standing behind Foreman with concerned-filled faces.

"So? You have major hearing loss. It can get worse," Foreman said.

"And who knows why it's happening," Taub added.

"I'm getting older," House snapped. "I know I may seem like it, but I'm not spring chicken."

Thirteen, ignoring House's remark, took a step closer to House. "We need to run some tests. We looked at your MRIs from the wreck but there wasn't anything-,"

"Because there isn't anything!" House yelled.

"Yes there is!" Kutner argued. "You can have something deadly that could have happened after, like a-,"

"I know. I'm a doctor too." House pulled out his signature orange prescription bottle and poured some of the white pills into his hand, the fellows didn't see how many, and popped them into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

"Look," House said. "It's nothing. I can still carry a conversation-,"

"Only if you are looking at us so you can read our lips," Thirteen objected.

"It works, and I can still hear you, just enough to annoy me. It's probably just an infection, I'll take some antibiotics and it will get better-,"

"Or it's not an infection, and you'll die," Foreman said firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. "You're not going to walk away from us on this."

House stared at the neurologist for a second, as if he was considering what he had said, but then he laughed.

"Watch me," House said, and pushed past Foreman and limped away out of the room.

The other doctors stared as their boss walked away.

"That didn't go according to plan at all," Taub muttered.

Foreman chuckled to himself._ Yeah, thanks for pointing out the obvious._

Kutner, however, was more worried. "What are we going to do?"

Foreman shrugged. Whether it was something simple or something complex, whatever was causing House's problem could not be tested if he refused to cooperate. House, no matter how great of a doctor he was, was also a horrible patient. Foreman feared that this was going to be the most difficult situation he had ever to deal with House, and that was saying a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes at the bottom this time :)**

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House threw the book he had been reading onto the coffee table that sat in front of his couch, frustrated because it had not sparked any new ideas as to why he was rapidly losing his hearing.

Swallowing the last of the pills in the small bottle and following them with a swing of scotch, House turned his attention to the television. He was watching _The Sixth Sense _for what seemed like the one hundredth time. House could understand what they were saying by reading their lips and also by their body language; House had always prided in himself that he was able to diagnose someone from across the room without coming within five feet of them just because he picked up on little details. The way that they held their fork was a clear indication that they were suffering from carpal tunnel syndrome. The way that they sat facing away from the sun showed that they were sensitive to light. House also found that this trait was useful when he had to strain to hear someone's voice or to not look away from their face, just in case they had something else to say. The _way_ someone moved and the expression on their face often gave a clue as to what they were saying.

House watched as Bruce Willis and the boy exchanged dialogue. He thought that he could faintly hear the sound from the movie. Picking up the remote, House increased the volume, which was already most likely bothering his neighbors.

Even with the volume louder, House couldn't hear the sound from the television any clearer or louder. House closed his eyes, trying to focus on the sound. However, when he did, the little noise that he had been hearing had disappeared.

Sighing and cursing himself for being so stupid, House put the television on mute and looked back at the characters. Again, House could hear the dialogue in his mind. He guessed that he had watched this movie so often he could hear the voices in his mind without actually _hearing_ them.

Running a hand though his short hair and House looked around in his apartment in desperation.

_Now I sound like a crazy person. Hearing voices…_

So could he not hear anything at all?

House limped over to the piano and sat down and rested his fingers on the keys. He had not played since his hearing had been rapidly declining. Taking a deep breath, House pressed middle C.

House _knew_ what it was supposed to sound like and the tone echoed in his brain. Trying another tactic, House closed his eyes and tapped a random note, seeing if he could identify it by sound.

Only if he could hear it. House could feel the vibration of the note he had had played, but no sound reached his ears.

House looked down at the keys. His finger was resting on G sharp.

He didn't know when his hearing had started to fade. Two weeks? Three? At first, House had just brushed it off, not really realizing it was happening. But later, when he had to keep asking, "Huh?" and "What?" more often, House started to know something was happening, but he did not know why.

He also didn't know why he ignored it. Maybe he had hoped that he was imaging it, or possibly his age was finally manifesting, or for some other pointless reason that caused House not to alert anyone to his issue that seemed like a molehill at the time.

Now it had turned into a mountain. Now the team had figured it out and was trying to pry into his business as always, and it wouldn't be long until Cuddy found out and Wilson would…

_Not him. He doesn't care, remember?_

House should have had the team run their tests. He probably couldn't avoid it much longer, because they would have their panties in a wad and will be fussing over him constantly.

And House just wanted to know what in the hell was wrong with him.

--

"Do you think this is a good idea? What if he catches us?" Kutner anxiously asked walking behind Foreman and Thirteen, who were a few steps ahead of him. Taub was also cautious and was trotting next to Kutner.

Foreman looked over his shoulder. "Cameron, Chase and I have had to check up on House more times than you know. Working for him also means that sometimes, you have to be his babysitter," he explained as he walked into House's apartment building, holding the door open for the others.

"I still don't like the idea of breaking into his home," Taub muttered.

"What's he going to do?" Thirteen asked.

"Um, fire us?" Kutner replied. Foreman just rolled his eyes as he stood in front of House's door with a key in his hand.

"He's not going to fire us. Besides, we've broken into his home before. And this time, we have to because he won't hear us knocking on the door," Foreman said, trying to justify breaking into House's apartment. Foreman jammed the key into the lock thinking about the time when Cameron and Chase had broken into House's apartment when they thought they House had had cancer. Back then, they had falsely thought that House was dying, but now…this time, he could be. Ironic, how brain cancer was the disease House had faked, and now it one of the things that could be causing House's hearing loss.

Pushing that probability to the back of his mind, Foreman cracked the door open and looked inside. House wasn't sitting on the couch, or anywhere else for that matter.

"Come on." Foreman opened the door wider and motioned for the others to go inside. Taub, Thirteen and Kutner walked past Foreman and stood in the doorway, taking in the surroundings of House's apartment for the first time. Foreman pushed past them and peeked in the kitchen, not finding House there either. All he saw was an empty bottle of scotch on the counter.

Sighing, Foreman turned around to find the others still standing where they were several second before.

"Well?" Foreman said. "Are you just going to stand there?"

Snapping out of their daze, they spread out in the room. Kutner was immediately drawn to House's guitar in the corner. Thirteen however, saw Kutner's distraction and dragged him by his sleeve over to the table next to House's couch and they began going through the plethora of stuff that covered the surface.

Kutner kneeled on one knee and flipped though the paperwork. "There are all sorts of literature on hearing loss here," Kutner said out loud. "National Auditory Studies-,"

"And books and medical journals." Thirteen picked up a piece of paper and showed it to Kutner. "Is this House's handwriting?"

Kutner glanced over to the slip of paper Thirteen was holding. "Yup. That's his. What's it say?"

By now, Foreman and Taub were leaning with their elbows on the back of the couch observing the others that were sitting on the floor.

"He's listed possible things that could be causing his problem. Infection, Ménière's, trauma..." Here Thirteen looked at Kutner next to her, then to the others behind her. "Tumor."

Taub let out a low whistle.

"There's no need to worry now, we don't know what's wrong yet," Foreman said.

"It looks like he is having more problems than he let on." Kutner nodded to the television where subtitles were flashing across the screen, and the sound was muted.

"That's not a definitive diagnosis," Taub argued.

"Well-," Kutner began, but Foreman stopped him before he continued his pointless argument with Taub.

"We need to find House, and take him to the hospital as we planned."

The others nodded. Kutner got up off the ground and offered Thirteen a hand so he could help her up, but instead he got a glare as she stood up without his help. Kutner shrugged and let his hand fall to his side as he followed Foreman.

They stopped at the end of the hall next to a closed door.

"Is that is bedroom?" Taub asked.

Foreman nodded. Taub was starting to make an objection, but Foreman opened House's bedroom door, revealing House asleep, tangled in the sheets on his bed in the dark room. Taub let out an audible sigh, but followed Foreman and the others to House's bedside despite his misgivings of doing so. All Taub knew is that House would be pissed when he found all four of his employees sitting next to his bedside.

Thirteen sat on the edge of House's bed, causing him to stir slightly but he still in remained his steady rhythm of sleep. She looked back to see the guys standing a foot or so away. Kutner gave a wave of encouragement with his hands.

"Go on, you're the girl," Kutner whispered.

Sighing, seeing how being the only girl in the group would soon grow tiresome, she grabbed House's side and gently shook him. "Hey, wake up."

"Hey genius, he can't hear you," Taub criticized. Mumbling under her breath, Thirteen roughly shook House's side this time, rousing him from his slumber.

House's eyes shot open and looked at the shadowy figures of Kutner, Taub and Foreman. House blinked, wondering if it was a dream.

Feeling a slight increase of weight in his bed that he was not used to, House craned his neck to see who was sitting next to him.

"Oh God, you're here too?" House asked when he saw Thirteen scowling at him.

"House, we-," Kutner began but Foreman reached across him to turn on the lamp on House's bedside table. House squinted and shielded his eyes from the sudden light.

"Listen, we know…" Foreman let his words drop when he saw that House had lain back down and had turned his back to them.

"Go away!" House yelled in the direction of the window. Taub glanced to his side at Foreman who had his hands in his pockets and was glaring at his boss. Kutner merely looked crestfallen down at the floor, while Thirteen smoothed her hand over House's sheets, smoothing out the wrinkles.

Not wanting to give up, Foreman reached over and forced House to turn back over so he would face them. House quickly sat up and scooted away from Foreman.

"Do all of you want to get in my bed or something? Because there's not room for all of you," House said.

"House, we know you can't hear. Let us help you," Foreman begged.

"No."

"Why not?" Taub asked.

"Because…" House gripped his sheet in his hands, balling the pieces he held into a ball.

"Let's go," Kutner said, offering his hand to House. House only stared at Kutner, and again Kutner let his arm drop to his side.

"Fine. We won't help you."

"I don't need help," House objected. "You plan to kidnap me is foiled."

"House, you can't hear hardly anything." Taub paused. "How much can you hear?"

"Oh, some stuff. It's not that bad-,"

"House, I know that you don't like it when somebody cares about your well being, but I'm not going to stand by and watch you suffer-," Foreman spat.

"I'm not suffering," House interjected.

"Okay, right you like not being able to hear," Kutner said sarcastically.

"Actually, it's a good break since I don't have to listen to your – what did you do?" House looked over at Thirteen who had been quiet for awhile. Or not. House had not looked at her when he had been talking with the others, so he did not know if she had said anything or not.

Thirteen was holding a syringe that she had pressed into House's arm. She smiled as she took it out.

"You should have just gone without fighting us," she said.

"You drugged me…again…" House's eyes slowly closed and he fell back onto his bed.

Foreman sighed. "I wondered when you were going to do that."

"I figured to at least give him a chance," Thirteen said. She stood up and yanked the sheet off from House.

The other doctors reluctantly went over to House's bed and lifted him off, carrying him out in his pajamas.

Foreman wished that House had complied with them too, because it looked awkward for three guys and a woman to be transporting an unconscious man from his apartment to a car.

At least they would now get the answers they were looking for.

* * *

**So in the next chapter, we will find out more about House's problem, and the reason for it. Sorry if this seems kind of slow, but if you know me, you know how I like to drag out a story ;) But thanks for all who is reviewing and offering comments, it really helps. See, I did a two-day in a row update because of your encouragement :)**

**And so again, thank you for reading and reviewing, and if you are not reviewing, too bad. It really makes a writer happy :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! I know I said that the diagnosis would be in this chapter, but it's in the next. Also, the "God" line references the episode "Skin Deep."**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House.**

* * *

His eyes sluggishly fluttering open and uttering deep sigh, House found himself in the cramped surroundings of a MRI machine. Even though he could not hear the traditional loud _thump, thump, thumps_ of the MRI, House could identify the circular tunnel he was laying in any day. That and the fact that he was wearing a hospital gown confirmed that he was in the hospital.

_God?_

Again, House realized that _he_ would not be there.

Although slightly confused at first, House soon remembered it all. Foreman, Kutner, Taub and Thirteen – every single one of them – had broke into his apartment, knocked him out, and kidnapped him so they could have their curiosity settled by doing some tests. Sighing, House rolled his eyes and started to scoot out of the tunnel, positive that the try-to-do-good-doers were yelling pointless threats for him to stay still over the intercom.

Sure enough, when House ducked his head out of the machine, Kutner and Thirteen were standing at his feet having matching fuming expressions and crossed arms against their chests. House curtly nodded towards them and swung his legs over the side of the ledge of the MRI table and started to ease up but Thirteen stopped him with a quick shove of her hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down into a sitting position.

Although it was dark in the room and could barely see her lips move, House was pretty sure that Thirteen said, "Lay back down."

House was going to protest for his freedom, but stopped when Thirteen and Kutner's attention was drawn to the separate results room where Taub was saying something into the microphone. As for what Taub was saying, House did not know. Agitated that he didn't know what was going on, House began to try to get up again, swatting away Kutner's efforts to hold him down.

"Get me the hell OUT OF HERE!" House bellowed, at least he thought. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

House struggled and finally managed to stand up at the expense of punching Kutner in the face, causing Kutner to reel away with his hand to his chin. House didn't care that he just assaulted another employee. He hastily limped towards the protective glass the separated him from Taub, who was wide-eyed staring at House's outbreak.

House banged on the glass with a fist and slapped the other hand against the cool surface and yelled at Taub loud enough so the frightened doctor could hear him, also hoping he would hear himself.

"What is it? Have something to say?"

Taub stumbled over words that did not form into anything coherent. House slammed his hands against the glass again.

"What did you say!?"

Taub fumbled with paper on the desk and pulled a pen out of his lab coat pocket and began writing furiously. He then slapped the paper against the window, with the writing facing out so House could read it.

_Got what we needed from the MRI_

House looked away from Taub's slanted handwriting to the plastic surgeon's face, trying to catch a glimpse of an expression that might tell what was wrong with him.

"Well…?" House asked after a few seconds.

Taub took the paper away from the glass and scribbled something else, and then showed it to House again.

_Clean. No tumors. Something else._

House sighed, letting his hand slide against the glass, succumbing to the fact that something was wrong with him.

--

Twenty minutes later, House sat dressed in his normal clothes in the recliner in his office. Foreman sat with his chin rested against his fist on the footstool, Thirteen and Taub sat in the chairs in front of House while Kutner leaned against the white board with one arm lazily draped over it. Someone – House guessed Kutner by the sloppy scrawl – had written one symptom at the top of the board: hearing loss. Under the singular symptom, there were many possible diagnoses written below, each as different than the next one.

House rolled his head against the head rest to see the other doctors looking back at him with tired faces.

"No one asked you to stay awake all night putting me through useless tests," House said, breaking the silence that House knew was present, even though he could not hear it.

"We wanted to," Thirteen whispered.

House did not see Thirteen speaking; he was looking at Foreman, waiting for a response from him. Foreman sighed and let his arm drop to his side and leaned in closer to House. "We wanted to wait until you woke up until we crossed off anything," he said, motioning to the white board that was now sitting in House's office instead of its normal location in the conference room.

"So what did you find out since you have kidnapped me?" House snapped, but at the same time eager to find out the cause of his problems.

"The MRI ruled out cancer," Foreman said.

Out of House's peripherals, he could see Kutner cross out "cancer" on the board. House turned his attention back to Foreman, taking in every word.

"We also did an x-ray to rule out trauma, and then a CT to see if there were any acoustic neuromas. Both tests were negative."

"Morons," House muttered. "Of course I don't have a neuroma. I don't have nausea or-,"

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, House stopped and turned to see Kutner staring intently down at House with a marker in hand.

"You never know," Kutner said, then turning around to cross "trauma" and "neuroma" off of the board.

"Huh?" House asked.

Kutner looked back at House. "I said…never mind."

House scoffed and threw his hands up in the air. "Why am I bothering? Did you even check to see if I had a simple infection?" House's eyes darted from one doctor to another, waiting for one to answer him.

"Of course we did," Taub said. "It was-,"

"Negative?"

Taub nodded.

House looked back at the white board. The only thing that Kutner had not crossed of yet was Ménière's. As if Kutner knew what House was thinking, he drew a line threw the possible disease. "We checked for that too," Kutner said. "You don't have it."

House closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think of something else that could be causing his symptoms.

Was there a cause? Or was this just spite, catching up with all that he had done?

House slightly jerked when he felt something on his knee. He opened his eyes to see Foreman looking at him with concern, with a hand placed on his knee. House begrudgingly pushed Foreman's hand away, isolating himself.

"House, do an audiometry. Then we can at least know what we're dealing with."

Sure, whatever. What choice did he have anyway?

--

"Here…House…put these…over…your ears." Taub handed House a pair of large headphones. House snatched them away and shoved them over his ears, glaring at Taub.

"I'm…not…an idiot. You…don't…have…to…talk…slow," House said, mocking Taub. Kutner snickered, who was sitting next to Taub and pressing buttons on the audiometer. Other than them, the examination room was empty.

"S-sorry," Taub stuttered. "I just-,"

"Thought I could hear better if you spoke really slowly? I can actually read lips better when you talk normally," House explained.

"Oh."

"Tell me if you hear anything," Kutner said, fiddling with the machine.

House knew how these tests worked. Sounds of different decibels would be emitted and could be heard from the headphones that he was wearing over his ears. This would tell how profound his hearing loss was.

However, no matter how much House concentrated on listening for the shrill sounds from the machine, all could he hear was nothing. The absence of something.

Kutner tapped the table, making House look up at his lips.

"I had a friend in college that was deaf," Kutner said.

"So?" House asked.

"I know some sign language."

"I'm getting along just fine by lip-reading. Plus I'm not deaf," House pointed out.

"It's starting to look like you are. Have you not heard anything yet?" Kutner asked.

House shook his head, and moved his gaze to Taub's moving mouth.

"You speak louder than normal now. You can lower your voice, you know."

House nodded.

Kutner held up two fingers together and turned them to the side. "This is an H." Kutner then formed a circle with his hand. "And this is an O."

House reached across the table and hit Kutner's hand. "I'm not learning sign language."

"It can't hurt," Kutner protested. "Besides, you are talking obnoxiously loud."

"Who am I going to talk to? Just you? I would die of boredom."

"All of us could learn it. And then you could still lip read for the other people that you come across that don't know-,"

"I'm not doing it."

Kutner made a flicking motion next to his head with a questionable look on his face. Annoyed, House looked over to Taub.

"What does that mean?" House asked.

Taub shrugged.

Kutner's hand fell to his side. "It means _why._" He made the flicking motion again.

House stared blankly at Kutner. "Not learning it."

"Fine." Kutner wrote something down on House's chart. "You're done; you can take off the head phones."

House slowly took the headphones off, waiting to know the prognosis, even though he was certain what it was going to be. Taub and Kutner were speaking turned away from House so he could not see what they were saying. House was about to make a remark, but Taub met House's eyes, while Kutner just looked off into the distance.

"House…you're clinically deaf."

House nodded, not surprised by this, but stunned because now it had been said aloud and written in his chart, and that had made it official.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**I love this chapter, it's kind of crazy. Um...author's notes at the bottom :)**

* * *

House had dozed off in the recliner in his office, too exhausted to go home. He had been awake until the early hours of the morning with his team while they had been testing him. After his audiometry and finding out the extent of his hearing loss, the team had become quiet (or not talkative in House's mind), and had gone home, leaving House to think about what he had just learned.

House was dreaming. He was sitting on the bus, across from Amber. She was wearing what she had been wearing that night during the crash – red scarf wrapped around her neck, peeking out of the tan suede coat. House looked down. He was wearing scrubs.

Amber was smiling at House, her mouth moving, but with no sound. House tried to catch what she was saying, but he could not concentrate, each word slurring into the next.

_Not too bad, rather be dead than alone?_ House thought that was what Amber was saying, but he was not sure.

House looked around the rest of the bus. It was just how he had remembered it. Everything was in the same place that it had been before. Only this time, the faint murmur of conversation was gone, and it just left House surrounded in an eerie silence.

Not expecting it, House covered his ears with his hands when the sound of metal clashing against metal echoed in his ears. Shutting his eyes, House bit his bottom lip as the impact rocked the bus, sending it flying, tumbling, across the street. All House could think about was the loud, crashing, metal rubbing against the concrete of the road, metal twisting around whatever it slammed up against, and the faint scream of his name.

"_House…"_

Even if it was a dream and it terrified him, it made him feel alive.

"_I'm cold."_

House opened his eyes to see himself standing over the wreckage of the bus. Not a living soul except him. No sound. He was alone again.

Bringing his hands down from his ears, he felt something felt that his hands were slick with wetness. His hands were drenched with blood. Red, vivid blood stood out against the black and white of what had become his dream.

His hands shaking, House looked down at Amber at his feet. Unmoving and stiff, obviously dead, but her body was clean and bloodless except for a few random drops that contrasted against the white of her skin.

The blood was dripping from House's hands onto Amber. She had been clean, but it was his fault that he had leaked death on her.

House wiped his hands onto his shirt, trying to get rid of the evidence that he was the one that had left the trail of blood.

"_House?"_

Startled at the sound, House turned around. He was now in an operating room, and wearing a clean set of scrubs.

"_House?"_

He looked up again to see Chase staring at him with his face half concealed with a surgical mask. House could see the material moving behind the mask, but could not read what the Aussie was saying, but regardless, House could hear it with his own ears.

"_House, did you hear me?"_

House slowly nodded, but stood rooted the spot. That wasn't Chase's voice. It was Taub's.

"_So?"_

House spun around again, hearing a new voice. Cameron was standing there with a hand on her hip, the other rested on the monitor screen. But her voice was wrong too. Cameron was speaking with his mom's voice.

"_It's your turn,"_ Cameron-imposter-with-his-mother's-voice said.

"My turn for what?" House asked.

"_Don't you know?"_

A new voice added to the bunch. House tried to identify it before looking for its source. Thirteen's voice.

House glanced over his shoulder. Cuddy was standing behind him with a haughty, impatient expression.

"_I told you to stop," _Thirteen's voice in Cuddy's body said, getting closer to House with every step. Soon she was face to face with him, and leaned in and brushed her lips gently against House's, her tongue begging for entrance into his mouth. House obliged, and Cuddy slid her tongue in, licking his teeth and running her hand through his short hair, but House pulled away, feeling something hard in his mouth. House spit it out into his hand.

It was a Vicodin.

"_Was it worth it?" _Cuddy/Thirteen asked with her hand cupped against House's cheek, her fingers rubbing the rough stubble on his face.

"I-I don't know what-," House stuttered, backing away from Cuddy.

"_Of course you don't,"_ Taub's voice said from Chase.

What was going on?

"_What's going on?"_

House looked around the room. Who now?

Wilson appeared next to House. House looked over at his ex-friend. He wore a stern attitude and cold eyes that House had never seen before, not even Wilson had severed their friendship. And around Wilson's neck, he wore the red scarf that Amber had been wearing that horrible night on the bus.

"What are you doing here?" House whispered.

"_What are you doing here?" _Wilson repeated, but with his own, true voice.

"I asked you that."

Wilson smirked. _"I asked you that."_ Wilson unwound the scarf that was around his neck and placed it over House's shoulders.

"_It's your turn to carry this," _Wilson said.

House stared at the scarf and held the end in his hand. "A red -,"

"_Herring."_

House's gaze snapped to the other end of the room, where Foreman was leaning against the wall, but was clearly speaking in Chase's accented voice.

"No. It's supposed to be an albatross," House said.

"_No. A herring."_

House nodded. "Why?"

He felt something tapping his shoulder. Dropping the scarf, letting it hang around his neck, he turned around the see Kutner. Kutner was signing the flicking motion next to his head.

_Why?_

House looked around to everyone in the room.

"What do you want?" House yelled.

Wilson nodded to the body on the examination table that House had not noticed before. It was covered up from head to toe.

"_Look and see,"_ Wilson said.

Taking a deep breath, House reached for the blanket, but was stopped by someone grabbing his hand and shouting his name.

"_House!"_

He couldn't hear. He was deaf. Chase, no Taub, had said so himself.

Again, House felt someone touch him.

House gasped as he woke up from his dream and found himself in his office where daylight was streaming in though the windows. Taking a moment to realize that he had been dreaming, he looked to see what had woken him. Cameron was kneeling next to House, holding his hand, while Chase stood over House.

And there was something that was tickling at House's mind…

"You okay?" Cameron asked. With relief, House sighed because he did not hear his mom's voice come out of Cameron's mouth. However, he heard none at all.

House nodded. "Just a dream." House pulled his hand out of Cameron's with disgust. "I can handle a dream by myself."

"It seemed like a bad one."

"I can manage."

_What was it…?_

Chase placed a hand on House's forehead.

"You don't have a fever," Chase stated.

"Duh. Did Foreman tell you my issue?" House asked.

"Yes. And Kutner and Taub and Thirteen," Chase said.

"Damn. I need to fire all of them. Such tattle-tales."

Cameron stood up next to Chase. "You're going to fire them because they care?" she asked.

"No, I…never mind." House looked up at his old employees who were sadly staring down at him. He was reminded of the time when he had been shot and them and Foreman had stood by his bedside, acting like he was going to die.

He was fine. Well, not really, but he wasn't going to die. But…

Images from his dream flashed through his mind. Amber, crash, turning, flipping, Chase with Taub's voice, Cuddy kissing him, spitting out the Vicodin, Wilson, red scarf, blood, Kutner signing _why_, cold, silence…

_Oh._

"House?" Chase asked.

"What?"

"I think…I think I know what caused you to go deaf."

"Me too."

"You do?" Cameron surprisingly asked.

"Yes."

"Well…?"

"I want to see if Chase knows. I want to see how well I trained him."

"Um…" Chase fidgeted and looked down at the ground and said something, but House couldn't see.

"Hey wombat, I can't see what you're saying."

Chase looked up and took a deep breath. "It's your Vicodin, they-,"

"I know." House sighed. "I know."

* * *

**Dun dun duuuun! Yes, Vicodin can cause hearing loss. A bunch of people already know and they had been guessing...you guys are smart cokkies! :D **

**I looked up so much info for this, you wouldn't believe. The acetaminophen/ hydrocodone combination apparently kills the sensory neural hair cells inthe inner ear,which would leave youcompletely deaf. So I HAD to do this, because it's too awesome of a plot to pass up.**

**So there will be...3 more chapters? Maybe. So...review please?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay in the update. It took me awhile to write this...I had serious writer's block. After a week or so of banging my head against the keyboard, this came out. It's not my best...ugh. I also decided this would be the last chapter, and I'm going to do an epilogue. So let me know what you think about what I did...comments are appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House MD, but what would you do if I said that I did?**

* * *

The sensory neural hairs in the inner ear are apparently sensitive to the combination of acetaminophen and hydrocodone in Vicodin; however the exact reasoning for this is still unknown. The hairs inside the inner ear pick up sound vibrations, and then transform them into nerve impulses and then transmit them to the brain as sounds. Once the hairs are damaged, the damage is permanent, and if the hearing loss is severe enough, hearing aids will not work.

House knew all of this, and he felt like a moron for not figuring it out sooner. Even though he had been taking Vicodin for years and he had never had a problem before, his sudden hearing loss was not much of a shock after he got over the initial surprise. There were many explanations as to what could have caused his problem, but the one that was most likely was the one that was the worst. In the past few months, House had been taking more pills than normal, and the larger dosage could have been what finally pushed it over the edge.

However, the exact cause would probably never be known, and House was okay with that. As long as it wasn't officially stated, nobody could blame House for his own problem.

Even though House knew it was his fault, and everyone else knew it too.

However, House was more restless and was plagued by his thoughts. He thought of the reality of his situation; that he would never be able to hear anything ever again. Cuddy said that he could still keep his job because a deaf person can still function. But how could he listen to someone's heart beat? He couldn't check someone's blood pressure or use a stethoscope to listen to someone's breathing.

Maybe he could get out of doing clinic duty now. If so, that was the only good thing to come out of this.

House also thought of that disturbing dream he had had. The memory of the sounds still resonated in his mind, reminding him of what he was missing. House knew what it represented when Wilson had handed him the scarf…House had to deal with his own problems now. But what had Foreman said…it was a red herring; something to divert attention away from the basic issue. But what? And what was under the sheet…? Was that the red herring?

Curious as he may be, House didn't really want to know.

House looked up, noticing Chase and Foreman standing in front of him for the first time. House wondered how long they had been standing there.

"You okay?" Foreman asked.

Before, people's absent voices resonated in House's mind, but now everyone was silent and their voices were slipping away from his memory. A world without sound was lonely; House felt like the only person inhabiting it, and even if he screamed for help, nobody could hear him to help him.

--

House sighed as he looked around his empty apartment. Chase had driven him there, thinking that House would be more comfortable in his own home.

House scoffed. No matter what accommodations were made for him, it wouldn't change the predicament that House was facing.

In the past two days, everyone had relented House. They were careful around him, making sure that he understood what they were talking about, and were giving him gentle, sympathetic gestures: a lingering hand on his shoulder while they spoke to him or a sweet smile when they should have been yelling back at House. He had been through this before; it was cripple pity. When you have something wrong with you, people treat you like you are delicate and will crumble to pieces if you are not treated with the up-most care and love. When you have a disability, nobody will talk about it and they pretend that it's not there, but they will do anything in their power to assist you, thinking that you need their help, when in fact, you're just fine.

House wished he had somebody to talk to. Any of his present or past employees were out of the question; they were already stumbling over themselves to aid House in his time of need, and as good of a friend that Cuddy was, House did not feel comfortable enough to talk to her about such matters.

He needed Wilson. But Wilson didn't want to be needed by House anymore.

But it was worth a try.

House picked up his phone and began dialing Wilson's number, but when House held the phone to his ear, he realized that over the phone communication would not work. House ended the call and stared down at his phone. He then started typing out a text message to Wilson.

_Hey. Can you come over?_

House sent it and a few seconds later, the phone vibrated indicating Wilson's response.

_Why are you talking to me like nothing happened? And why did you call and hang up?_

House sighed and sent back:

_Because I need to talk to you. And I will tell you why I hung up, IF you come over here._

This time, it took longer for Wilson to reply, but he said:

_No House. I'm not going to go over there. Stop trying to make me feel sorry for you and stop trying to make me interested so I will want to come. I'm serious…I'm done._

House closed his eyes, and hoped that Wilson would believe him.

_Wilson. I'm deaf._

_House, I'm not playing this game. Good-bye._

And then, House knew that nothing else could be done to convince Wilson otherwise.

--

House was dreaming again, and it was the same dream as before. The only difference was that House and Wilson were the only people in the room. The covered up body was still on the exanimation table and House had Amber's red scarf wrapped around his neck.

House shivered as he exhaled, his breath making white clouds of vapor in the cold room. Wilson stood leaning against the wall, nonchalant, staring at House with dark eyes that did not fit Wilson's usual bright face. House took a tentative step forward, but paralyzing pain shot through his leg. He gripped the side of the table and reached out towards Wilson.

"Wilson, please," House begged.

Wilson shook his head. "_I don't care."_

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean for Amber to die! It was a mistake, and I'm sorry that I am the way I am. I promise to change, just please talk to me." House was surprised to hear these words spilling out of his mouth. House recognized his voice and he knew what he was saying, but he didn't try to stop himself. They felt like the right thing to say.

Wilson held out his hand so House would stop talking. He then motioned to the body on the examination table.

House looked curiously at Wilson for a second before slowly walking over to the table. House's whole body shook as he shivered and held his breath as he stood over the covered up body. Letting out a shuttering breath, House grasped the sheet and pulled the cover back to reveal…himself.

House staggered backwards. It was him; there was no mistaking his own appearance. He was lying on the table, empty blue eyes staring at the ceiling, pale skin contrasting with a dark bruise around his neck. House felt his own neck, his hands brushing across the fabric of the red scarf.

"_What are you going to do now?"_ Wilson asked._ "Now you know how it ends."_

House struggled to say something, but all of his words failed.

"_You could do it now. It would avoid a lot of misery."_

House nodded. Ignoring his pain, he climbed up on to the table, which was now empty…the dead version of himself had disappeared. Maybe because the two would be the same in a few moments.

Without thinking, House moved through his next actions as though someone else was controlling his movements. House wound the scarf tightly around his neck and tied it in a knot, and then reached up and tied the other end to the lamp that was hanging above him. House then looked down at Wilson and gave him a curt nod. Wilson smiled evilly and placed his hands against the table, ready to push it away, assisting in House's hanging. House closed his eyes, waiting for the end to come.

"_House, wake up!"_

It wasn't a dream. Soon, he would be without pain.

"_House!"_

House opened his eyes. It was a dream. It had to be. How else could it be explained that Wilson was standing over House?

Wilson smiled briefly when he saw that House was awake, but it quickly turned back into a frown.

House looked around the room. He was on his couch in his living room, and Wilson was next to House, still wearing his jacket. That could mean two things: one was that Wilson was concerned, and didn't take the time to remove it. The other reason was that Wilson did not plan to stay long.

"Hi," House said as he sat up. Wilson rolled his eyes and sat next to House.

"I called Cuddy," Wilson said. "I asked her if what you said was true…if you were deaf."

"And?" House asked.

"She said it was true." Wilson sighed, but did not move his gaze away from House.

House smiled. "My neediness has made you return."

Wilson scowled as though he was trying to think of something harsh to say, but then shook his head instead. "I came back because I was worried."

"Exactly."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm still angry. But…I'm okay. I don't blame you for her death."

House nodded and looked down, avoiding Wilson's gaze. "I'm sorry. I-,"

"I know," Wilson said, touching House's shoulder so that the deaf doctor could know that he was being spoken to. House watched as Wilson's hand slid down his arm, and House felt like these gestures were not full of fake pity.

"I knew you'd come running," House said. "I'm extra needy now since I'm a double cripple."

Wilson laughed. "Yeah, I just can't stay away."

"Wilson?"

"What?"

"Thank you. For coming for me."

"Of course. I would do anything for you."

House grinned. Silence may now consume his life and follow him everywhere he goes, but his life wasn't that much different. His best friend had come back and filled that void in his life that had been empty. He could always count on Wilson to be there when he needed him, proving that even though their friendship was dysfunctional and had some problems, it was worth working on in order to preserve it.

He had gone through much worse things in his life, and House didn't think that this would be much worse. Yes, he could not hear, and that would grow frustrating, but it was manageable. He would have to just take it one day at a time.

Just like he always does.

* * *

**Gasp! So like I said, I wasn't 100% happy with what I wrote, but I think it's better than what it was going to be. LOL Don't forget, there's going to be an epilogue that's dated three months later...so be on the look out for that! Thanks!**

**:) Rev**


	7. Epilogue

**Here it is, the final part of this fic. A few things first though. ASL means American Sign Language. Also, I want to thank everyone for their wonderful reviews and everyone that put this as a favorite story. It makes me light up with happiness :)**

**Okay, so here is the epilogue of _Silence._**

* * *

It had been two months and seventeen days since Wilson had forgiven House. Two months and seventeen days since House had learned to live with the fact that he was deaf.

House opened the door to exam room two in the clinic. Much to House's displeasure, he had not been able to get out of clinic duty because of his disability. Cuddy didn't let him off so easily. Although it didn't really matter; House was able to manage patients perfectly fine on his own. Whenever he needed help with a patient, whether it be because of his lack of hearing or help that he would have needed normally, House called for a consult without much thought.

"Hello, I'm Dr. House," he said as he sat down on the stool in front of a small boy that was sitting on the examination table with his feet swinging and hitting against the table. His mother, House assumed, had been standing looking out the window but turned to House when he had come into the room.

"We've been waiting for two hours!" the irate mother shouted.

"Then why did you stay if it was such a nuisance?" House asked. Ignoring the mother, House motioned for the boy to hop off of the table. The boy stood in front of House, looking up at him.

"What's your problem?" House asked.

"My throat hurts," the boy said, putting a hand up to his throat to show where it hurt.

"And…?"

"My head hurts too. And my nose is stuffy."

"I wonder what it could be," House mockingly said as he felt the child's glands around his neck, checking for swelling. He then felt the boy's pulse at his wrist, and looked at his watch as he counted the boy's pulse.

"It's normal," House said looking up at the mom. She stared at House in shock. "How do you know?"

House scoffed. "Duh, I'm a doctor." He picked up a pin light off the counter. "Say, 'Ahhh.'" House looked down the back of the boy's throat and then shined it against the boy's cheeks, seeing if the boy's sinuses were clear.

House looked up when he felt a tap on his shoulder. The mother was standing over him looking angry. "It's rude to ignore me," she plainly stated.

"I'm deaf," House said. "So I have a problem not understanding what you are saying when I am not looking directly at you. I can't read those red lipsticked lips when I'm looking elsewhere."

The mother's eyes widened in shock. "You…can't hear?"

"Isn't that what I just said?" House shrugged. "I don't know. I couldn't hear what came out of my mouth."

"I want another doctor. A hearing one," the mother ordered.

House stiffened, but pulled out his Sidekick out of his pocket, flipped it open and sent a text. A few seconds later, Wilson walked into the room.

"You wanted a consult?" Wilson asked House.

House pointed to the kid. "The mother thinks I am incapable of making a diagnosis because of my _disability, _when I made it all based on non-hearing tests. He has a sinus infection by the way."

Wilson sighed and felt the boy's neck like House did, and then repeated the other things House had done. Check the back of the throat, his sinuses, and then his pulse.

Wilson nodded at House, and then looked over at the mom. "Dr. House was correct; your child has a sinus infection. Here's a prescription for an antibiotic." Wilson scribbled on his prescription pad then ripped off the paper and handed it to the mom who was staring agape at House.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't," she began.

House held up his hand. "Forget it."

Wilson followed House out of the clinic room.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked.

House shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you just…" Wilson shook his head. "So did you ever consider getting that cochlear implant?"

House shook his head. "I'm not going to get it. I'm just fine as I am. They don't always work anyway."

"But it's worth it if it does-,"

"I'm fine." House threw the file of the boy with the sinus infection on the nurse's counter, and he began to walk out of the clinic. "I got everything I need. I text someone if I need to talk to them, I got a TTY and video relay phone at home-,"

"Which you never use," Wilson pointed out.

"You don't think it's weird that those translators listen in on our conversations?" House asked.

"Yeah, but it's their job."

House shrugged. "And I'm learning sign language, and I must say that I am getting pretty good at it too. And you're learning it-,"

"Slowly," Wilson said.

"And Cuddy and the team is busy learning it too."

"That will be good when we can all communicate with you in ASL."

House nodded. He then paused and leaned his cane against his leg and made some motions with his hands. Wilson caught some of what House was saying, but not much.

"I and Foreman what?!" Wilson asked.

House smirked. "I said that you are a slow learner and even that loser Foreman is learning faster than you."

"Ha ha…very funny."

"It's true though. Foreman is a loser." House felt his Sidekick vibrating and he pulled his phone out of his pocket and read the message that had just been sent.

"Who?" Wilson asked.

"Kutner. He says that we got a case. Fourteen year old female, fainting spells and she is bleeding from nowhere."

"Sounds fun," Wilson said.

"Come on." House limped to the elevator and pressed the "Up" button.

Things had almost not changed at all.

* * *

**So how did you like it? It was kind of short, but I just wanted a quick wrap up. :) If not, I could have went on and on and on and on.....**


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